


wanted (hopefully by you): how to propose to your sacrificial ex-coworker

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Loveless
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Loveless Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cat Ears, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, Face-Fucking, Fighter Roy, Hand Jobs, Knifeplay, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Nameless Roy Mustang, Rimming, Sacrifice Ed, Soulmates, Spell battle, Virginity, ear and tail kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: A Loveless AU.Post Promised Day, Roy is getting more and more aggressive offers from Sacrifices who want to claim his unnamed power. He needs one he can trust, and fast. Since Maes died, there's only one of those-- and it's a bad idea.So why can't he stop thinking about it?ORThe four times Ed doesn't lose his virginity and the one time he does.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 34
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Roy Mustang Fucks.

“Another request from General Hakuro for dinner, I assume?” Roy asks when Riza walks in with an envelope. He can’t see the writing from here, but he knows how to recognize the man’s stationery tastes.

They’re awful. Thick, but somehow thin enough at the edges to always give a papercut. A stark white that hurts the eye. Gold leaf and a _coat of arms_ on his letterhead, which makes no sense since Amestris has never had nobility. General Hakuro is the special kind of elitist prick who will design his own.

“He’s becoming insistent, sir,” she says dryly, and drops it on his desk. “You need to take a name soon, or they’ll choose for you.”

“They can try,” he says, and it’s a fruitless statement because they both know it’s inevitable. As a Blank he was powerful enough to be deployed, capable of combat without a name or a sacrifice. Teamed with Hughes without his name ( _aimless aimless aimless_ ) they were nearly unstoppable in Ishval.

With Ed, they were practically gods. They _defeated_ two gods, Hohenheim and Father ancient and immortal and no match for an _unnamed_ pair when that pair was him and Edward Elric. It was thrilling, the amount of power they held. Euphoric. 

The brass know that the best move is to pair him with someone loyal, but they’re selfish conniving bastards, and if they’ve made it this long unnamed or widowed they want him for themselves. Tactics be damned, he’s a prize for anyone who craves power. And the one thing he has in common with every single one of these men is ambition.

“They can force you,” Riza reminds him gently. 

“They can’t force me to—” and Roy takes a deep breath, cuts himself off. That’s treasonous, to suggest murder of a higher ranking official. Even if they’d deserve it. Even if it would be tantamount to suicide, with the odds it would drive him insane, should they manage to scar him-- to carve their claim into his skin without his consent.

Riza rubs at her wrist where her own name is, still undiscovered. Roy thinks she’s lucky, though to say so out loud would be cruel. 

“We do know...someone else…who is in a unique position right now,” she says. She hasn’t dared state it so blatantly, but apparently even she has limits, and that little display pushed her right over them. 

“He’s a child,” is the first thing that Roy thinks to say, and he makes a face at himself even as Riza gives him a look. 

“Sounds like you’ll get along well,” she mutters, just loud enough for him to hear. He gawks at her. 

“There’s _Alphonse,_ ” he tries again, plaintive. His blood is rushing, tongue and fingertips tingling in the way they do when he’s working a particularly delicious spell. 

“Alphonse has made his position extremely clear, and Ed will respect that,” she says. The implied, _that’s why he’s the right choice,_ hangs in the air between them.

Alphonse and Ed shared a name, before the human transmutation. Ed spent years working to retrieve Alphonse’s body, and in the process forfeited their shared name. Al declined to have it rewritten.

“If we were going to,” Roy starts, and can’t get the words out. They stick in his throat, needles and taffy. Riza waits. “Promised Day was the end of the world. He didn’t say yes when every single life of Ametris was at stake, Riza. I think he’s made his position on the matter clear.” 

“He holds no loyalty to the previous or current administration,” she reminds him, rather than argue at Ed’s potential reasons for denying Roy back then. 

_He only holds loyalty to me, what very little of it he has to give to the military,_ Roy thinks, and it’s so intoxicating he wants to hide under his desk. This is a bad idea. It sounds like a good idea, but so do _many_ bad ideas. And anything Roy wants this much is a very, _very_ bad idea.

“He won’t hold loyalty to the future administration, either. That kind of unaffiliated power is dangerous, Roy.” She doesn’t have to lay it out any heavier, he gets it. Edward’s putting himself in danger just as much as Roy is, by choosing to remain Blank. 

“This is a bad idea,” he tells her. 

She nudges the envelope closer to him, and it almost falls off the desk. He catches it, swears when one of those impossibly sharp edges slice his finger open. 

“Hmm,” she says, and then salutes, “Sir.”

She about faces and marches out, leaving him to his bleeding hand. 

***

“No,” Ed says, throwing himself onto the leather couch despite his immediate and adamant refusal. 

“I haven’t even said anything,” Roy sighs, doing his best to shield against the rejection even as it flays him. 

“There’s only one fucking thing anyone wants from me these days, and I’ve said no to everyone else, and I’m saying no to you too,” Ed says. His tail twitches irritably, lends more innuendo to the sentence than necessary when Roy’s eyes catch on it. 

Best to cut to the chase, then. He respects Ed too much for anything else, and Roy’s not sure if he can handle much more rejection after what happened with Maes. “Then why are you here?” 

“Riza said to give you a chance to convince me,” Ed says, and flops back, legs spread wide and hands out in a ‘come at me’ gesture. “So convince me. It’s more than others get.”

“Aren’t you a little old to still have your virginity?” Roy asks, point blank. Ed’s face goes red, ears flattening along the back of his head as he practically hisses at him. 

“Doing a _shit job_ of making me trust you with a _life long bond,_ you fucker,” Ed snaps. He doesn’t get up and leave, though, and his tail is curled at the end even as it thrashes. He’s happy to be here, just a little bit, or maybe happy in general. Roy shouldn’t give himself that much credit.

He moves over to Ed, sitting in the scant space unoccupied by his warmth and personality. He can’t seem to make his body do even a fraction of what Ed’s is doing, spine straight and shoulders back in perfect posture. He clutches his own knees through his uniform. 

“You’re the people’s alchemist, but not for much longer. You were cute as a kid-- charming, and hopeful. You lead a revolution whether you like it or not, and that makes you dangerous. But you never moved on, Ed, and you’re losing your immunity” and he leans forward now, staring at his own boots, heart pounding. 

“Surely you’ve been getting the letters too. Although, I have _no_ idea how anyone plans to control you. A sacrifice _and_ an Elric? They’d be better off just killing you.” 

“I’ve been _burning_ letters,” Ed agrees. “But you’re not my only option, _Roy._ Maybe my best option, yeah. And Al’s not fucking— eager to jump back in with me, he’s made that fuckin’ clear enough, but if my life was on the line? He’s still my brother. So sell me on you. C’mon.”

It’s not like he was hanging his hopes on Ed or anything. The whole discussion was born from a political necessity. It’s not like Maes, not even _close_ , and yet it still burns just the same. Roy’s honestly not expecting it, and he swallows a few times and stands, pacing away so that Ed can’t see. 

“I can’t,” he admits, voice rough. “It’s not-- it isn’t really out of benevolence, you know that. If you gave me,” and he stops, unable to say it out loud. He waits, and Ed doesn’t interrupt. “It would be for my benefit only. It would rescue me from the brass’s tireless pursual, and allow me to keep my autonomy. It would protect me from being forced to take a name for the sake of allegiance, and I could try and leave but I _won’t._ I’ll commit treason before I’ll give up on Amestris, but I don’t want to. I’m _tired_ of this threat looming over me, over both of us.”

Ed sighs, heavily. When Roy chances a glance at his reflection in the window, he sees that Edward has his head in his hands, is fiddling with his ears. “Okay. Let’s try this over again. _I_ am going to show you how to offer your bond in a convincing way, using myself as an example. And then _you’re_ going to give it a try, and you’ll hear my answer, which I thought was _pretty fucking clear_ when I didn’t leave and called you my best option.”

Ed stands, abruptly, and then drops to his knees. His face is pleading, open. “Roy. Please take my name. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more. I will give you anything you need, whenever you need it. You’re my best option, and even if you weren’t, you’d be my _only_ option,” Ed cuts his performance off and leans in with a stage whisper, “this is what is known as an exaggeration, or _lie,_ ” and then resumes. Roy’s frozen, shocked, lips parted. 

“I will buy you food every day. I’ll wear an embarrassing costume. I’ll give you my virginity, fuck, I don’t got any use for it, you know how annoying getting pants tailored like this at _nineteen_ is? I’ll—” Ed makes a wrapping up motion with his hand, and then stands. “See, if this was a real one, you’d have interrupted me. With a kick to the jaw or a yes, you know, the standard answers.” 

Roy’ not sure if he should shove Ed over or kiss him. He wants to do both. He wants to pull his tail, and kiss his mouth, and _fuck_ does he want to see Ed on his knees again.

Instead he drops to his knees, brings Ed’s newly restored hand to his lips, and begs. “Edward,” he starts, and Ed’s ears flatten again, tail bristling as he turns crimson. He whips his hand away and Roy grabs at his belt instead, using it to keep Ed from storming off. 

“You don’t have to make fun of me, you giant—” he chokes out, but Roy cuts him off. 

“Will you name me. Please, Edward. I’m tired of being alone, and I know why you turned me down during the Promised Day-- Al’s yours, and even now without his name you’re still loyal. I can’t ever promise to be the kind of fighter that Al was. Hell, I don’t even know if I can be the kind of _friend_ you deserve. This is a political request, yes, but I also.” Roy swallows, holds Ed’s eyes even when he starts to shake and looks away, chasing his gaze until Ed’s forced to _look._ “I trust you. I _like_ you, Ed and we… you know we’re good, even if I’m not. Real.” 

“Do you wanna…” Ed starts, and then stops, swallowing heavily. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“More than anything,” Roy admits, and he’s freefalling now, terrified. He’s not sure if he can handle another rejection. 

“Al was a fuck awful fighter,” Ed says, and gives a wry smile. “He argued with me constantly, we never agreed on anything, and he hated watching me get hurt. I—he’s mine. He’s always gonna _be_ mine. But I’m not looking for a replacement who can fill his shoes, or what the fuck ever. Just, stop beating yourself up. Sometimes destiny’s kind of dumb.” 

Roy flinches, misinterpreting, maybe on purpose. “All I am is a replacement,” he reminds Ed. “That’s all I was born for.” 

“I’m gonna kick you in the balls if you don’t stop talkin’ like that,” Ed says and rubs his face. “God. You’re the worst fucking salesman. Just promise me—” 

“Look,” Roy pushes on, needs to explain that he’s not pathetic, or anything, needs Ed to know. “I know that this whole naming system is bullshit. I know my worth, and I know I’m going to be Fuhrer and lead Amestris into a _good_ era.” 

“Should lead yourself into the self help aisle of a bookstore,” Ed mutters. “I am _trying_ to say—”

“--but if I can’t escape this stupid curse of a nameless body, then I’m going to do my best not to let it _define_ me, Edward, and if anyone knows about making their own way it’s--”

Ed kicks at him, lightly. “Shut! Up! I’m trying! To say! That all you had to promise! Was weekly takeout, whatever I want! You fuck! I’m trying to say yes but you keep having _feelings!_ ” 

Roy snaps his mouth shut, teeth clicking. He feels the vibration through his jaw, down his neck, through his diaphragm. He’s still kneeling. His hands are still on Ed’s belt, keeping him close, and Ed’s tail is twitching in agitation, occasionally brushing against his arm. 

“I was just trying to tease you, barter a bit,” Ed says uncomfortably. “I didn’t—of course I’m gonna say yes. I didn’t come all the way here just to tell you to go fuck yourself.” 

Roy looks up at him. “Never stopped you before,” he answers, numb. 

“I was _legally obligated_ to return or I’d risk a court martial and also Al being dissected for parts,” Ed snaps. “And I fucking came back some other times anyways, didn’t I?”

“I need to confess, before you make up your mind,” he says in a rush, because Ed _commits_ , stubborn and irresponsibly, and Roy hasn’t been honest with either of them, can’t agree to something of this magnitude without full disclosure. He licks his lips and they’re dry, chapped. 

“I’m not your priest,” Ed says.

“I’m in love with you,” Roy says, knowing Ed’s going to cringe as soon as he says it, and he pushes on, “and I desire you, and that’s-- not fair. Or right.” He lets go so that Ed can step away if he needs to. 

“Please stop talking,” Edward says, face pained. “Um. Okay. So. Remember earlier. When I said. I was using myself as an example?”

“Oh,” Roy breathes. “Are you sure?” He reaches out and runs his hand over Ed’s tail, the fur silk between his fingers. He can feel the vertebrae and it twitches against his palm but doesn’t pull away.

“No, now that you mention it, I fucking love walking into a room and seeing everyone think _virgin,_ it makes me feel like a real powerful man,” Ed crosses his arms, shoulders hunched up defensively. 

“ _Edward,_ ” Roy chastises, eyes narrowing. “Sex is a tool, and it’s up to you how you use it. Some of the most powerful people I know still have their ears.” He knows they both think of Riza, of Olivier. 

Ed stares at him incredulously. “I’m not upset I’m a virgin, I’m upset that it gives them _ideas_. Like, why the fuck else does everyone try and hit on me? Right? This is stupid, this is— beside the point, the point is— did you say you _lo—”_

“You’re a moron,” Roy tells him, voice a little too loud. He scrubs at his face and stands, shakily, knees creaking. God, he’s too old to be having this conversation. “People look at you because you’re beautiful, and built, and have an ass that you could spring a coin off of.” 

“Oh, yeah, _now_ you get good at selling yourself, after I’ve already said _yes,”_ Ed rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“ _Whatever?!_ It’s _true,_ you irredeemable cretin,” Roy says.

“So you think you’re in love with me?” Ed challenges. “That’s also like, whatever, but I’m not gonna—this has to last a whole life time, you realize that? You can’t just sing odes to my ass for a few months and then lose interest. It’s fucking fine if you think I’m hot, I guess, you’ve always had questionable taste in things—” 

“Edward,” Roy stops him with a hand over his mouth. “If anyone breaks this bond it’s going to be you, and I’ll let you, because you deserve better and if anyone has the willpower to survive losing their partner it’s you.” 

Ed’s eyes are glaring murder, and Roy realizes that that’s… empirically proven, actually. Ed really does have the willpower to break a bond and survive it. Because he has. 

He winces. “I didn’t mean that to come out sounding so insensitive,” he admits, and pulls his hand away. Ed’s ears are flicking along with his tail, emotional outlets like a little guide. 

“Why can’t you just take my fucking yes,” Ed says. “I came here to say yes, you were here waiting to ask me, just fucking, fucking _take it,_ and we can work through your _delusional_ ideas about my loveableness _later._ Enough exposure and— _”_

Roy moves over to his desk as Ed rants and pulls open a drawer. He removes a small knife, silver, nestled in a velvet box. It’s incredibly cliche, but it was from Madame, a morbid acceptance of who he was. Is. Was. 

“--anyone will fucking give up on me. And it’s fucking cruel to dangle that, when you _know_ how I feel, everyone fucking knows! People in Drachma know!”

He takes Ed’s hand and places the knife in it, realizes that after all these years, after fighting together twice, Roy has no idea where Ed’s mark actually is. 

“Fucking _Riza_ knows, that’s why she asked me here,” Ed grouses, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s an awkward placement, sorry, let me just—”

He tugs his pants down a little, and leaves his shirt open, which reveals the name in the hollow between his hipbone and pelvis. _Faithless._

Roy begins unbuttoning his uniform, breath coming out shallowly, eyes trained on the dusting of gold hair that he can see disappearing beneath Ed’s waistband. His hands shake as he removes the jacket, and unbuttons his shirt, removing it so that it doesn’t get stained with blood. 

“Wait,” Ed says, noticing the knife in his hand. Roy ignores him and undoes his calvary skirt, letting it drop to the floor. “What are we doing? There’s gotta be a tattoo parlor nearby.” 

“No,” Roy says, voice raw. “We do it now. Like this.”

Ed swallows, “Uh. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Like. We both seem way too into this? For it to be a good idea? Should we get someone else to tie break or—” 

Roy’s eyes are hot when he catches Ed’s, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Into it?” He asks, and removes his slacks completely. 

“HAHA,” Ed declares loudly. “NOPE YOU’RE RIGHT, THIS IS NORMAL, JUST. SURE. GO FOR IT. I HAVE NO STRONG FEELINGS.”

“C’mere,” Roy says, and he takes Ed’s wrist and pulls him towards the couch. Roy sits, leaning back, and in order for Ed to do this he’ll have to kneel in front of him. He clutches at the arm of the couch in anticipation.

“I locked the door, but—” Ed says, and bites his lip, worries it with his front teeth. He’s not kneeling, just yet. “You’ll have to be quiet.”

He smiles sadly. “Fighter’s who fight without a sacrifice take all of the damage. I can handle a little bit of pain, Ed.” 

“I’ve had automail surgery,” Ed says, and drops to his knees. “I’ve had to sit awake during procedures they couldn’t use anesthetic in. It’s not the same as a spell fight or a fist fight feels, to hold still while someone hurts you cuz you asked them to. Just—bite on something. Maybe. Just in case.” 

It’s not bad advice, and Roy doesn’t really have anything to prove, so he rolls up his shirt and shoves the end between his lips. His mouth is instantly dry, cotton and salt. His heart is pounding so fast he can feel it in his face, and he and Maes got this far before he changed his mind, Roy’s been here, he knows he can survive it if Ed--

“I meant like your tie?” Ed says faintly, eyes big and dark where they stare up at Roy, and then up and down his chest. “Okay. Yup. Sure. Yup. Yeppers. This is such a bad idea.”

Ed pauses on that, knife shaking in his hands as he switches it between them. 

“Let’s fucking do it.”

Roy doesn’t see what hand he uses, in the end, because Ed was right— it _is_ different, and his spine bows before he can stop it. He settles it quickly though, tilts his head up to the ceiling, breath in quick pants. 

He focuses, like he does when he’s in battle, narrowing down his awareness to one point; the opponent, the words, the energy, the flame. He focuses on Ed’s fingers, light and electric against his skin, skin on skin for probably the first time in their relationship.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Ed is saying. “Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ That’s my fucking _name._ ”

He focuses on Ed’s voice, warm and sharp, a lick of flame against his soul. 

“You fucking moron, you could have had anyone, what the hell are you doing,” Ed says, and Roy— Roy hopes he’s talking to him, and not to himself. He has to believe that. He has to believe that or he might cry.

He forgets to focus on his breathing. 

He maybe a little passes out. 

***

“--I know it was stupid, he’s fucking stupid, what the _fuck,_ who _passes out,_ ” Ed is ranting. There’s some very unimpressed hums that he recognizes as Riza.

“Ed,” Roy murmurs, and he’s got the terrible cold sheen of a blackout sweat. His mouth in’t sour, so he didn’t vomit, and when he opens his eyes there’s no hangover created migrain. Pain pulses through him, hot and dull, and it’s the exact opposite of the way it felt when Ed-- oh. His hand moves to his hip, newly bandaged, and disappointment overtakes him that he didn’t get to see his name before they hid it from him. 

_His name._

“I hope you enjoyed the last time I _ever_ listen to you, you collosal fucking, fucking,” Edward seems to shut down entirely trying to think of a word bad enough. 

“Did I stay quiet?” he asks.

Ed goes deadly still, says, “Excuse me,” snatches Roy’s discarded pants off the floor, and screams into them. 

“Why do you get to yell?” Roy asks. He blinks away the blurriness and glances at Riza, who has her arms folded and ears perked in his direction, her single tell for when she’s pissed. 

“This is _not_ what I meant when I said to ask Edward,” Riza says severely. “It’s the middle of a work day.”

“You should know by now that I need my instructions itemized and thoroughly broken down, Lieutenant.” There’s something bubbling in his chest. He wonders if he’s going to vomit. 

“That’s your _only_ complaint? Really? It’s the middle of the _work day?_ Riza, this knife is fucking, _engraved_ with _to my empty heart,_ and he keeps it in his DESK!” Ed moves like he’s going to drop the pants, and then drops them on Roy’s head instead. “What the fuck! Is wrong with you people!”

“There’s a car waiting for you out front,” Riza tells Ed. “I’ll help you get Roy into it, since he’s probably used his only brain cell for the day and won’t be able to make it on his own.” 

“New rules. First new rule. Of this relationship,” Ed says, as he starts moving however Riza directs him.

“Relationship,” Roy grins, and some of the bubbles come out. Who’s giggling? 

“Relationship between _sacrifice and fighter,_ ” Ed continues. “Is that you don’t ask me for shit when your shirt is off.”

“Oddly specific,” Roy hums. Riza’s thrown his arm around her shoulders, and he’s stepping into the pants that Ed is holding out for him. Ed’s face is right by his dick. He might be horny in front of two of his subordinates right now. 

“I’m deeply uncomfortable with public nudity,” Ed lies. “I grew up in a very moral, modest countryside, unused to the perversions of the city. Did you know that I didn’t see an ankle besides my own until the age of 13? Once I took off my turtleneck during a heat wave, and they nearly stoned me to death for harlotry.”

“I love you,” Roy tells him with a loopy grin. He lets his head roll onto Riza’s shoulder. 

“SECOND NEW RULE OF THE RELATIONSHIP—” Ed says after a pause. 

“Relationship,” Roy giggles. 

“I can’t fucking deal with you like this,” Ed says, horrified. “I just signed up to deal with you like this for the next week?”

“Longer than that, I’m afraid,” Riza says grimly.

“I want to touch your hair,” Roy adds, helpfully. 

Ed’s eyes narrow. _“Third rule—”_


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you doing?” Roy asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, robe hanging open to expose him itching at the lining of his bandage. 

Edward is on top of his cabinets. On top of his _kitchen_ cabinets. Not the ones covered by the counter, but the ones that have barely half a foot of space between the ceiling and their wooden top. He’s army crawling and slithering along them, face grimly determined, tail swishing in the confined space.

Something falls off the cupboard tops, which would be far more noticeable if Ed didn’t simultaneously _launch_ himself off of them and after it. Jars go flying. The Cookie dish loses it’s lid. Ed’s foot connects with the faucet, turning it on. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Roy asks, more alarmed, moving closer to--something.

Ed is scuttling across the floor on all fours, hissing in frustration, and then he suddenly stops, hands cupped over the tile. His face twists into a victorious, sharp toothed grin. Roy squints because— he’s seen Ed smile plenty of times, surely he wouldn’t have missed that he still has so many of his baby teeth. But he does, especially in the molar area, pointy and fanged. 

This is explaining a lot about how he eats his food like he’s attempting to choke to death.

“Ed,” Roy asks, and he goes to kneel next to him but the stinging scar on his hip reminds him that, no, that’s not something that his body can do right now. Instead he places his hand between Ed’s ears and smushes a little, holding firm when Ed tries to duck away from his touch. 

“Caught it,” Ed says simply. The sink is still going. He peeks between his hands and then hurredly shuts them again, likely to keep whatever is in them contained. 

“You’re aware,” Roy says slowly, looking at the wreckage of his kitchen. There are chairs knocked over as well, the table skidded out of place, the vase leaking water onto the floor. Presumably from the previous chase. “That you are not _actually_ a feral cat. Right? You know this?”

Ed makes a face at him. “What, do you think I’m stupid?” Roy looks at his kitchen expressively. 

His tail thwaps Roy in the leg over and over, hard, irritable.

“The tail makes me more nimble,” he snaps, “why do you think I kick such ass in a fight?” He’s blushing a little, embarrassed to be caught in something he thinks is juvenile.

“Lack of self preservation, common sense, and an _amazingly_ well defined ass, which now that you mention it I suppose your tail _is_ a part—”

“Hey!” Ed shouts, scuttling away from Roy’s hand, “hands off the real estate! I got precious cargo here.” 

“But my own real estate is in shambles. Allow a man a consolation prize,” Roy says. He heads toward the dishtowels. He can’t bend, but he’s become quite efficient at aiming towels at the spot on the floor and then dragging them around with his foot.

“You’re such a baby,” Ed says, like he does everytime Roy demonstrates the fact that he’s injured. “You’re fine.” Roy is not fine. Roy has a magical scar taking forever to heal, and it burns from more than just white blood cells and scar tissue, probably. 

“If my scab breaks again, Riza will know, and she will kill me,” Roy says calmly. “And then she will kill you.”

“Do you have like, a shitty immune system? Why is it taking you so long to heal? Roy. Tell me honestly,” Ed says, standing and cupping something carefully between his palms and against his chest. “Do you get enough antioxidants in your diet.”

“I don’t think that’s what antioxidants do,” Roy starts, because it’s not like _he_ knows, but that can’t be right.

“Caffeine, then,” Ed amends, tipping his chin to peek between his palms again. His ears do an excited little pivot when he catches sight of whatever it is and he smiles. 

“That’s _absolutely_ not what antioxidants do—” Roy starts, and then cuts himself off. This is a discussion for a braver man, and that braver man is Edward’s doctor, Winry. “--what are you holding, Ed?” 

“A present for Al,” Ed says. He’s moving towards the stairs. Is he going to take that thing that Roy strongly suspects is a mouse into the _bedrooms_?

“Edward!” Roy calls after him, and almost slips on his own ingenious towel solution when he tries to start after him. He decides to stay still. “Edward, help clean up!”

There’s the sound of a pleased cackle, and doors opening and shutting. Way too many doors opening and shutting.

Roy looks around his demolished kitchen. And he. 

Smiles.

He follows Ed upstairs after turning off the faucet, groaning with each step, getting closer to the cackling. His dignity won’t survive another day of scooching up on his ass when he can walk, or another minute of the colorful commentary it earns him. He wishes with all his heart he could scooch up on his ass right about now.

It’s a hamster. It’s in a little metal house, with a little metal wheel and obstacle course, and it’s little nose is twitching at Ed’s finger where he’s poking at it, still cackling. The door he walks through is conspicuously missing a doorknob, and he suspects the others in the hall are as well.

“I am the better species,” he tells it. It boops his finger. 

“You took my doorknobs?” Roy asks, faintly. “Edward. My _doorknobs.”_

“Hahaha,” Ed says at him. “Not all of them. There’s still one on the bathroom!”

He does these things just to drive Roy mad. Three days into caring for Roy on his sick leave, Ed realized that while Roy was trying not to strangle him he wouldn’t be trying to convince him of his feelings. Roy knows this, and yet he still can’t help but to give Ed what he wants; a reaction, an argument, a commentary. 

He sucks in a breath, ready to complain, and-- stops. “That’s true,” he admits, and sits down on the bed with a huff and a wince. A peek in the bandage and he can see the scab where it’s broken, bleeding a little and glowing faintly blue. He’s really not sure it should be doing that outside of spellcasting or alchemy. 

“What?” Ed says, looking confused but quickly recovering. “I mean. Yeah it’s true. What do you need more than that for. Right.”

“Come here,” Roy beckons, and he shows Ed the glowing scab when he gets close enough. “Do you think we should put something on this?” He mostly likes to show it to Ed, who goes red and gets embarrassed everytime he sees proof of what they did, of his name on Roy’s body. 

Ed makes a face at him. “Like what? That’s just how Al’s looked, you’re fine. Fucking baby. Do you want me to kiss your boo-boo better?”

Ed makes another face, the one of a man immediately regretting his words.

“I do,” Roy admits, taking Ed’s chin between his fingers. “I bit my lip earlier.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Ed squeaks, but doesn’t pull away. Roy lets go of the edge of the bandage and places his other hand at the back of Ed’s neck, pulling him in. He’s been trying to get a kiss out of him for a week, but after their first one Ed got really red, bristled all over, and ran away. And then he transmuted all of Roy’s welcome mats into a birdhouse, which the homeowner’s association fined him for on aesthetic grounds.

Like Roy’s never had someone grind their erection on him before. 

Ed’s not running away this time, and Roy’s heart skips in excitement. Ed’s gold eyes are laser focused on his mouth, and Roy licks his lips instinctively. Ed follows, and then their lips slide together and Ed melts. Roy only winces a little when Ed’s body flattens against his, and then whimpers a little when he bears his weight entirely on his hips, right against his wound.

Edward freezes over him. “Oh my god,” he says, and then flips himself backwards off the bed and off of Roy— _no! —_ onto the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Not anymore,” Roy says pathetically, reaching for him. “C’mere.”

“I,” Ed says, and swallows, several times. More air than he should be swallowing.

“ _C’mere_ ,” Roy insists, leaning over to swipe at him, catching the hem of his sweater and reeling him in. 

“You are a vile seductive temptress and I will not be caught by your homoerotic wiles,” Ed yelps, but doesn’t leave. Roy takes the opportunity to yank Ed onto the bed so that he’s on his back and Roy can throw himself over him a little too enthusiastically. He catches himself on his palms, arched over him, and smiles. 

“I have never once desired the sinful pleasures of the flesh until I entered this den of iniquity,” Ed continues, wide eyed and nervous, and then slides his palms into Roy’s robe. “Hhh. Your back. Strong.”

“I’m flattered,” Roy says, and is, a little. He leans down to kiss Ed again, sighing into his mouth when he actually gets kissed back. He tests Ed’s resolve with a little tongue. Ed’s hands scrabble against his skin, painfully, but he’s learned his lesson and doesn’t wince from it. Then Ed takes his hands out of his robe— _no! —_ and puts them on his ass — _yes! —_ so the tongue was clearly a success.

“That’s stupid, I was lying,” Ed says when they break apart.

Roy flexes his glutes and kisses Ed some more, tingling from the way Ed’s breath puffed against his mouth, damp and hot. Ed slides his hands from Roy’s ass, which is deeply tragic, and then plucks at the waistband of his sweats in a silent question. 

He almost smacks himself in his own bandage in his attempt to get his sweats off, grateful to his past self for being too (wimpy) lazy to put on underwear. 

“I can’t fucking think,” Ed says, “This is why I said no asking me shit with your shirt off, fuck, take your robe off, take it _off.”_

“I haven’t asked you for a thing,” Roy reminds him, shucking the robe and immediately settling over Ed again. Maybe if he blocks Ed’s vision with nothing but himself he’ll forget about anything else and actually let Roy touch him for longer than a minute. 

Ed struggles out of his own sweater, careful not to elbow Roy in the face, speaking into the fabric. “Don’t have to ask. Your entire existence is just— one fucking big question mark, demanding immediate retaliation like,” he finally gets the sweater mostly off though it catches on his hand and he just leaves it there. “ _Fucking_ retaliation, if you know what I mean.” 

Roy doesn’t. “I don’t,” he admits, and slides his palm down the front of Ed’s jeans.

“It means I’m gonna _fuck you,”_ Ed says, and wraps his hand around Roy’s cock. 

“NNGGHH,” Roy says sexily. His abs flinch as he curls into Ed’s hand, dry and tight and perfect. He curls his own fingers around Ed’s cock, thumb pressed against the underside. 

“ _Ah,_ ” Ed gasps, and then, “Look at you, you’re so fucking— easy for it, fuck, you’re _hot,_ I hate you, your stupid _face,_ stupid slutty gorgeous cock sucking mouth—”

His stupid face is red and slack as he pants shallowly, trying to control the way his hips try and fuck against Ed’s fist with every truly filthy word that comes out of Ed’s mouth. How in the world did he learn to talk like that? Roy’s toes curl in his socks. 

“Yeah,” Roy agrees, and licks his lips. He dips his face closer to Ed’s and licks _Ed’s_ lips, pulling slowly at his cock. “I’ve gotten excellent reviews on it’s sucking capabilities, perhaps you’d--” 

“Imma write a letter to the fucking editor and tell them to retract,” Ed says, twisting his wrist. “All previous statements, because you’re _mine_ now—”

It’s probably completely psychosomatic the way that his scar burns as Ed says that, and Roy moans pitifully into Ed’s face. 

“--and it’s fine if you’re such a,” Ed pauses, a silent check in, but Roy just nods, because _yeah sure, he’s whatever Ed says right now,_ “Slut, but you’re my fucking slut, and I’m gonna— fuck this is stupid oh my god, stop me from talking—”

“I’m your slut,” Roy reminds him, “I can’t stop you from anything, I’m just a,” he moans again, hips rocking against Ed’s hand, his own fist slightly cramped by Ed’s jeans. “Get your jeans off, you wretched creature.”

“Why the fuck are you so into this,” Ed says, laughing breathlessly, dropping Roy’s cock --he whines again and humps the air a little-- to grapple with his jeans. Getting them off is a tall order for a short man, so he merely shoves them down his thighs. “I’m gonna _eat you alive.”_

“Thank you,” Roy breathes, and he licks his palm and reapplies it, swiping moisture from Ed’s cockhead and stroking him in earnest. “I hope I’m delicious, I promised you that you could eat whatever you wanted.” 

“You’re fucking filthy, is what you are,” Ed says, and wraps his hand back around Roy, eyes going glazed in a way that suggest he isn’t entirely listening to himself. His tail is thrashing against the bed, thwacking against their legs. Roy picks up his speed and Ed’s tail bristles, shudders, and wraps around his wrist.

“I’m going to die,” he gasps against Ed’s mouth, “I’m not strong enough to handle you.” 

“I’m gonna fucking die first, you little punk,” Ed snaps, like it’s a competition. “I don’t care if you’re strong enough to handle me, I will _break_ you, I will rip you open and kiss your stupid face and you’ll say _thank you Ed—_ ”

“Ed,” Roy moans, “Thank you, Ed, _thank you_ ,” his chest is catching as he feels the pressure building between his legs, belly crunching and thighs tensing. Ed feels it, speeds up, adds a twist to his downstroke and Roy sobs a little. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Ed moans, despairingly, desperately. “This is stupid, this is stupid, this is—” he breaks off, face clenched and mouth open, shaking underneath Roy. He whispers, “ _stupid.”_

“Yeah,” Roy agrees, brokenly, and shudders right after. He rolls his hips into Ed’s slack grip a few times, working himself through it, and just manages to catch himself on his elbow so that he doesn’t crush Ed. It takes everything in him to focus on his breathing and not just fall over. 

“Hhhhh,” Ed whines. And then, accusingly, but casual as an afterthought. “Vixen.”

“Why do you keep using the female versions?” Roy asks, panting heavily. Ed flicks his ears. 

“Tempter doesn’t sound as good, the connotations aren’t there. Like what you tempting me for, a shady loan? _Is_ there even a male version for vixen?” Ed says sadly. “Sexism ruins fucking everything, man. Only way to make it fair is to aggressively use every word for everyone.”

He’s definitely ranting, which is a good sign. After a week of skittishness Roy’s surprised at how cavalier he’s being about the fact that they’re covered in each other’s spunk, dicks out. 

Isn’t he a virgin? And yes, he’d been… very cavalier about that too, but this—should have meant something to him, right? Giving up your tail and ears when you’ve had them that long, it’s supposed to be... 

“What are you so stressed about?” Ed asks, cutting himself off. He tucks himself back in his jeans and Roy follows his lead, pulling up his sweats and taking the edge of his robe to wipe the worst of their mess off of them. 

“Nothing,” He says, and Ed’s eyes narrow so he adds, “Just terrified for the state of my libido. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” 

“Everything’s better on pain killers,” Ed says dismissively, but looks reassured. He perks up a bit. “Man, I remember, when I was in recovery—like it was fucking bad, let’s not downplay it, do not suggest getting automail unless you really need it. The trade is not worth it. But I remember like five months in, there was this second where my pain meds had just hit and the weather was really good, and Winry had managed to bully me into staying inside for a day and not hurting myself on physio. Well. She bullied me by taking away my arm and leg.” Roy hums and settles on the bed next to Ed on his uninjured side, fingers immediately finding his hair where it’s come out of its bun. He rubs a hank of it between his fingers, watching the way it shines in the light. 

“Anyways, I had this bite? Of a chicken potpie? And fuck. Roy. I have met God. Underwhelming. People who say they saw God on painkillers suck, they have no idea what they’re talking about. But that potpie,” Ed chokes up a little. “It was so fucking savory, Roy.”

He has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing, a small huff escaping to brush against Ed’s collarbone. “Are you suggesting that my orgasm was,” he pauses, lips twitching, “savory?” 

“You’re a shit,” Ed says, and bites at him, missing on purpose. “No. What I’m saying is… the absence of pain is more powerful than the presence of pleasure. And orgasms do both, and so do painkillers. Put ‘em together it’s like _woah._ ”

“That’s awfully philosophical of you,” Roy teases, brushing his fingers along Ed’s ear. They’re delicate, little folds of velvet, and he pinches the tip between his fingers until Ed flicks it away. 

“No, I think you’re mistaken, my _father_ was the Philosopher,” Ed deadpans. “I’m the Phallus-fucker.”

That gets Ed another pinch, his ear captured once more as Roy snorts. “You’ve yet to prove that one to me, darling.” The epithet drops out unexpectedly and Roy blushes. 

“I fucked out your brains, and a pity, when there were so few to begin with,” Ed says faux-wisely. “Hey, were the cookies okay?” 

“Priorities,” Roy sighs. “You have such admirable priorities.” 

“FUCK,” Ed says, “THE HAMSTER GOT OUT AGAIN.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ed’s laying on the couch, curled on his back and listening to the radio. The broadcast is a scholastic hour focusing on different topics; today’s is agriculture, and Ed’s been correcting the speaker nonstop, citing “I’m a country girl,” whenever Roy pushes him to elaborate.

He’s absently batting at his tail where it’s flicking above his face, knees drawn up to his chest, knee-high socks in blue and pink with _Rockbell Automail_ embroidered on them. 

Wait.

Roy puts down his book and squints at Ed. His ears are turned towards the radio as he listens, gold and shiny, not a single patch to indicate the molting process that precedes losing them. 

“Your ears,” Roy says dumbly. Ed doesn’t look at him, still batting at his tail. 

“Yeah?” Ed says. “If they look like I’m focusing on this horrible show, it’s not on fucking purpose, I’m just inexplicably drawn to hot headed idiots talkin bout shit they don’t understand—” 

“They’re clean,” he says, even more dumbly. 

“This is becoming insulting,” Ed says, and turns to look at him. “What’s your point?”

“We had sex.” Three for three, Mustang. 

Ed raises his eyebrows. “You mean handjobs? You—” he laughs. “Uh. That wasn’t my first handjob. I think I’d know if I lost my virginity, Roy.”

Roy swallows, picks up his book, and pretends to get back to what he was doing as Ed snickers at him. “‘ _We had sex,’”_ Ed whispers mockingly. 

He’d lost _his_ virginity in a handjob. 

“I think this is what they mean by virginity is a social construct,” he muses.

Ed throws a pillow at him. “No! It’s not! They mean it’s literally a part of society! Were you not listening to last week’s _Virginity and Society_ scholastic hour? It’s like you don’t even care about enriching yourself, Roy.”

“I’m more of a practical learner,” Roy says, glancing at Ed casually. “If you’d like to give me a demonstration I’d be happy to _enrich_ myself.”

“Weird, considering you’re the least practical person I’ve ever met,” Ed sighs, but flops backwards invitingly. “Come enrich yourself on my treasure trail, dipshit.”

“Of course.” Roy sets his book aside without even marking the page, falling to his knees as he reaches Ed and placing his palms on his spread thighs. He’s not wearing anything under his sweater. Just-- a sweater, a pair of socks, and a pair of black panties that have been taunting Roy all afternoon.

“I was joking,” Ed says breathlessly. 

“You were not,” Roy says, slipping his finger underneath the band of the panties and snapping it. 

“I could have been,” Ed argues, but his hips tilt up, pupils dilate. “I dress like this for _me._ I’m a modern, sexually empowered virgin.” Roy presses the flat of his tongue against the front of Ed’s underwear and looks up at him, eyebrows arched. He can’t just _say_ those sorts of things to him, he’s only a man. A desperately horny man, stuck on medical leave with a gorgeous temptress— Ed was right, that really _does_ work better— who has a vendetta against clothes. 

“Look pretty fucking pleased with yourself for someone who’s mouth isn’t doing anythin’ useful,” Ed says, and reaches a hand out, traces the line of Roy’s upper lip gently. Roy captures Ed’s finger between his teeth. He looks less overwhelmed than he had during the handjob, which Roy can only account to himself still wearing a shirt. 

He lets go of Ed’s finger when he realizes that he can’t suck it and Ed’s underwear at the same time and then proceeds to go to town on Ed’s stiffy through the thin cotton. It takes a lot of spit, which is gross, but the sounds Ed is making are not, so the experience evens itself out. 

“Why,” Ed gasps out. “Roy, do I need to go down there and show you how to _do it?”_

Roy hums his answer, eyes flicking up to catch Ed’s as he sucks his head hard enough to taste salt. Ed’s hands are flailing against his shoulders, and somehow his tail has gotten caught between his thighs and is thumping against Roy’s chest distractingly. 

“You,” Ed starts, and his grin turns sly and self satisfactory, a killer combination with his hooded gold eyes, the pupils blown wide, ears flat, “ _suck_ at this.”

Well, if his sacrifice wants him to do something-- or stop doing it-- who is he to deny the order? He leans back, a string of spit following his mouth for a pornagraphic stretch before breaking.

Ed rolls his eyes, rolls his hips, rolls his shoulders back into forced nonchalance. ““Can’t you understand direction when you get it? I said, _you,_ suck at this.”

Roy dips his head and takes the tip of Ed’s tail between his lips. He’s running out of spit, and so he compensates with his teeth, biting down lightly and catching it with one of his hands when Ed instinctively tries to jerk it away. 

“You can’t take fucking orders, it’s gonna kill me someday,” Ed says, and then flops back onto the couch, trying to hide the way his spine bowed. “It’s gonna kill me _now._ ” He sits back up, abruptly, catches Roy by the back of the neck, and bends nearly double to stare him in the eyes. “My fighter.”

“Yes, love,” Roy answers sagely. 

Ed’s eyes narrow, and he pulls back, closing down whatever openness he’d had. He shoves Roy’s shoulder, and says, “Fucking suck my dick already.”

He’s focusing pretty much mostly on how incredibly aroused he is. He’s between Ed’s bare thighs, knee-highs pressed against him and Ed’s tail twitching against his lips. It’s a wet dream, but a good one and not a weird realistic one when you go from horny to orgasm and then wake up with no context. 

Anyways. Roy’s pretty distracted, but he still catches the way Ed’s mood shifts, visibly shuttering right in front of his face. “In a moment,” he says, and he leans up to put their faces inches apart. He narrows his gaze and waits for Ed to say something, because that’s typically the best course of action with him. 

“Hm. Eye contact kink. Called it,” Ed says, and before Roy can squawk in protest, he presses their lips together. He cheats, tongue and teeth and fingernails scratching at Roy’s scalp where his ears used to be, the scars still sensitive. Roy groans, deep in his chest, entirely involuntary. Ed lets him go, hanging onto his lip with his front teeth for a long moment before slowly dragging them off.

“Good kitty,” Ed says sarcastically. 

“Bad kitty,” Roy says back, and pinches the tip of Ed’s tail. Hard. He’s panting a little, the wretch, and he licks his lips too many times, tasting Ed on them. Well, tasting the taffy that Ed was just eating. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Want me to say please? What else do you want?” Ed sighs. 

“I want you to tell me why you closed up just now,” Roy pushes, and just to cheat a little and even the playing field he presses his palm against the spot between hip and belly where Ed’s name is. 

Ed’s hands twitch like he wants to push Roy’s face away, or pull Roy’s hands off, before going pointedly still at his sides. “I didn’t close up,” Ed lies, closing up more. Roy’s knees are starting to ache and he shifts, chest pressing against Ed’s erection where it might be flagging, oh shit. 

Priorities: suck Ed’s dick or talk about their feelings? 

“So you didn’t,” Roy agrees, and dips his head back down, still fingering Ed’s tail as he mouths against his dick. His own is pressing against his trousers that he dumbly wore in an attempt to look attractive when he should have just thrown on sweats like a normal adult lounging their days away on medical leave.

“You’re unusually perceptive,” Ed says mockingly, but the tentative hand he places in Roy’s hair is gentle. Sweet, almost. He traces figure-8’s over Roy’s scars that send chills down his spine.

“I’m always perceptive,” Roy argues breathily, lashes fluttering as Ed traces the sensitive areas where his ears used to be. 

“No, see, it’s a fucking--reference, to your own dumb—” Ed rolls his eyes, rolls his thumbs under his panties, and rolls them down his hips. “Never fucking mind.”

Roy licks a stripe along the underside of Ed’s cock, stopping to lip at the head. He maybe hums a little happy noise and shifts further in the vee of Ed’s thighs, hitching them up with both hands. He has to let go of Ed’s tail to do this, but Ed didn’t even seem to notice him playing with it so Roy moves on in his exploration. He can see it flick away, and a hand leaves his hair, catches it. 

“I’m gonna,” Ed says, looking conflicted. “Fuck. I’ll hit you in the face with it if it’s—”

He appears struck by an instant of genius, and then says, “Hey Mustang, watch this,” the words that have preceded 99% of all Roy Mustang’s deaths. Then he slouches down on the couch, contorting his back, and stuffs the tip into his mouth, holds it there with his teeth. “Vere we po.”

Roy’s hips jerk violently, eyes going wide as he _keens_ against Ed’s cock. “Edward,” he moans, and does his best to swallow him down while still watching him suck on his own tail. 

“TEEF!” Ed squeaks, frantically dropping his hands into Roy’s hair, petting clumsily. “TEEF!!”

Roy pulls off and makes a truly irritated face, but Ed’s still got his mouth stuffed full of tail and it just makes his eyes go glazed and his lips part. His lips are red and the fur’s darker around his mouth, shiny, and it’s obviously doing something for him because he’s blushing and sweating just as much as Roy.

Ed shoves his tail into the side of his cheek, and it pushes out like there’s something far less innocent inside. 

“Roy, I know this is really doing it for you, but for god’s sake please relax your _fucking_ jaw,” Ed says. The tail moves as he talks, bumping his cheek out further. 

“I’m going into cardiac arrest,” he tells Ed, and then he ducks back down and swallows Ed to the root. He relaxes his _fucking_ jaw, and his throat for that matter, and he can’t see Ed doing pornographic things to himself but the way his body tenses and his hips snap up make up for it. 

“Jerk me off onto your face the—FUCK!” Ed yells, and the tail falls straight out of his mouth, starts slapping at Roy’s face immediately. “Sorry! Fuck, oh shit, motherfucker, don’t _stop,_ I’m gonna--I’ll catch it—”

The tail is still smacking at him, wet with their mingled saliva, a cool breeze wherever it touches his cheeks. Or eyelids. Or nose. 

This should be funnier than it is hot. It is, right? Roy’s not into this. That would be— 

_“Roy,_ ” Ed moans, and his tail traces the curve of Roy’s neck, settles there, cupping him closer. Roy bobs his head a little, careful to breathe through his nose, careful of his teeth, focused on the way Ed’s hips are squirming in an effort not to fuck his face. He seems to have forgotten the entire exercise, so Roy tugs where his hands are still gripping his thighs, encouraging him to do just that. 

“Are you—” and Ed laughs at himself then, at Roy’s fingernails digging half moons in his skin, “Right. You’re sure.” Roy flexes his throat in confirmation, drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. 

Ed takes the hint then, the very _pointed_ hint, sets a rhythm that Roy can lose himself in. He feels unreal, floating and fizzy, sharp points of reality at the most unexpected places. The damp fur on his neck from Ed’s tail, squeezing in time with his breathing. His knees, spikes of discomfort with his heart rate, which is _alarmingly_ fast if it was something he cared to think about. His mouth, his throat, numb and slick and sliding. His stomach, tight and hot. The burn of his healing name, _their_ name.

“Roy,” Ed whimpers, grabbing at his hair, his shoulders, his face. His thrusts are shallow-- Roy can’t take more than that-- and he’s compensating by thrashing around with his arms and head, trying to anchor himself. “Roy, I’m gonna, your fucking mouth--”

Ed puts his hands up to his own face then, in his own hair, and Roy can’t tell exactly what he’s doing. He pulls away for just a moment, risking his rhythm to look. 

Edward’s got his hands on his ears, twisting and rubbing frantically. His golden eyes flash, and he looks down at Roy, says, “Why’d you fucking _stop?”_ It’d have more impact if he didn’t sound like he’s about to climax all over his face. 

Roy pulls away further, just enough to speak, and says, “I wanted to see you.”

That does something to Ed. Something _fast._ His face crumples in, and then his body, curled over and coming all over Roy’s face.

Roy squeeze his eyes shut, just in time, and thinks: _called it._

He laps at Ed’s cock a little just to pull little high sounds from him, and he manages this for a good 30 seconds before Ed’s pulling at his face clumsily, hands directly in his own mess. 

“Get up here, get up here, I wanna, _get up here,_ ” Ed says frantically. Roy’s feeling just as frantic but worse, and he stumbles to his feet and knocks against Ed when his knees crack and go jelly. 

Ed pulls him on top of him, and there’s some unfortunate collisions with stomachs and automail knees, but then he’s hovering above him. Not exactly like last time, but close enough, and Ed’s hands are working at his zipper and buttons. 

Roy’s eyes have zeroed in on his next target and he’s so hard that he’s barely able to focus on anything but _accomplish mission_ as he stretches over Ed’s face. His scar burns and starts pulsing hot, but it’s not bad, not when he’s this turned on. 

Ed gets his pants open, _finally,_ and his hand around his dick. He scoots up, presses himself against the arm of the couch for leverage, close enough to kiss. He doesn’t kiss, instead turns red, and—

_Licks—_

“Ed,” Roy says brokenly. He lifts his chin and tilts it to the side to give him more access. 

“Good Ed?” Ed asks, then, “I’m gonna pretend yes, I’m a fucking _great Ed_.” And licks more, broad flat swipes of his tongue. It’s— rough? He hadn’t noticed that before, but granted, the tongue was in his mouth, and there was quite a bit more lubrication. Is Ed even human? He really is an incubus, a succubus, a dark denizen of— of— 

That’s stupid. Ed had it closest to right, and he deserves to hear it.

“You’re _always_ good, Ed, _always.”_ Then he captures the tip of one of Ed’s ears between his lips and massages at the base with his hand, seeking out the noises he was making when he was doing it to himself. 

“No, I’m _not,”_ Ed says back, and it sounds— serious? Why would it— “Fucking come, I’m getting carpal tunnel, _do_ it, I wanna _see,_ come on me— _”_

“Do it the, right,” Roy gasps, and actually Ed’s tongue is a little rougher than he anticipated, and maybe a blowjob is out of the question. “Oh, Ed, I’m,” thinking about Ed’s lips around his cock is good enough for him, apparently, because Ed’s hand strokes down to his base, back to the tip, and Roy follows the motion with his hips and comes hard enough his breath stops. 

It’s quite a bit of time that he isn’t breathing. He’s still jerking against Ed’s hand, _now_ it’s slick, but he isn’t breathing, and it’s not till his ears start ringing that he remembers and sucks in air. 

Underneath the ringing was Ed, apparently, if the ringing wasn’t just Ed, a low filthy stream of nonsense. “Fucking look at you _go,_ you’re like, like, if coconut milk came out of fire hoses, _fabulous,_ medal for _first place_ in cumtown races—”

“Whuh?” Roy says vaguely.

“Nothing,” Ed says. “Uh. Good job, buddy.” He pats Roy briskly between the shoulder blades.

“Hnng,” Roy agrees, and goes back to breathing heavily and rubbing Ed’s ear. 

“Gave it your all out there, left it on the track,” Ed babbles. 

“Mhhm,” Roy agrees, and bites down on the soft petal of skin. 

“FUCK!” Ed yells, and scratches at his back.“Sensitive! Sensitive!”

When he laughs it’s a deep rumble, satisfied, and he lets go and kisses the spot in apology. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says, and then he gives in and lets himself go, elbow giving out so that he can fall on top of Ed where he’s unfortunately situated between him and the couch cushions. 

Ed pats at Roy’s back some more, and that’s nice. Nicer than the scratching, though that had been _nice_ even if it wasn’t ‘nice’. Ed’s heart is still racing, and Roy listens to its frantic little patter under his cheek. That’s also nice. He turns to kiss it once before pressing his ear right back where it was. 

“The radio’s playing opinion pieces on you,” Ed points out numbly. Roy knows his ears are pivoted towards it and smiles, not needing to open his eyes. Ed laughs, and it jostles Roy’s face. “They’re _roasting_ you.”

“I only care about _your_ opinion,” Roy yawns. “Licking semen off my face, hm?” He adds, as if they’re at all related. 

Ed freezes, and then in a very tight voice says, “I am in a committed relationship with you for the rest of my life, which is why you are _never_ going to say anything about that again, and in return I will not throw you across the room and snap your old man spine like a flower stem.”

“Kinky,” Roy adds, and moves to deflect Ed’s smack as soon as he says it.

“I don’t make idle threats!” Ed says, and grabs Roy around the ass, and then rolls them both onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. “THREATEN!"

Roy’s laughing, and Ed’s laughing, and they’re covered in come and sweat, and Ed had exfoliated a layer of skin off Roy’s face with his _tongue_.

“Is that my bandage?” Roy asks, a white rectangle stuck to the couch cushion at what is now eye level. He looks down where their stomachs are smushed together and sees blue. 

Ed grins. “See? Told you you were being a _baby._ ”

“There’s semen on my scar, Ed,” he says. 

“Oh no there’s semen on my SCAR, ED!” Ed mocks, but stands on wobbly legs, teetering to the bathroom and its first aid kit. His voice trails behind him, getting progressively louder as it goes. “I’m concerned about INFECTION, if the scar tissues breaks then I could be INFECTED and I’ll have your MAGIC HIP BABY in our SCAR WOUND!”

“You’re literally the worst person I’ve ever met,” Roy says at normal volume, rolling onto his back. 

Ed trails back into the room, lowering his voice accordingly as he gets closer. “I’m too young to be a _mother!_ Much less to an _atheist!_ ”

“You should stop talking so that I can listen to the more enjoyable sound of strangers dissecting my choices and attacking my character.” 

“All they’re gonna do is call you a slut, and I can do that _better_ ,” Ed says dismissively. He drops the first aid kit on the floor with a clatter, and then follows it, straddling Roy’s knees and leaning in with a wet washrag to carefully cleanse the area.

Roy reaches up and cups Ed’s jaw, thumb brushing against his cheek. “You take good care of me, sacrifice.” His heart rate speeds up. It’s sappy, and Ed hates sappy, but it’s also true and. Roy’s never been able to say these things before, it was never _true_ before. He likes having true things. 

Ed turns pink, but not red, and smiles. He presses a kiss to Roy’s wrist, quick and easy as breathing. “Fuck yeah I do. Now stay still, I’m gonna pour rubbing alcohol on you in a second here.”

“My one true love,” Roy deadpans. Ed tips the bottle onto his splitting scab. 

Roy screams a bit. “YOU DIDN’T FINISH CLEANING IT YET!” 

Ed squints down at it, shoulders tight. “Whoops,” he says flatly, “guess you’re right. Have to do it twice then.”

Roy flops back, stares at the ceiling. 

What the fuck did he _say?_


	4. Chapter 4

It surprises Roy that it takes 11 days into his medical leave for a fighter unit to approach them. He and Ed both feel it when they come into their range, and Roy wonders at the radius now that they have a name and two watches to amplify their power. 

“Would you like me to--” Roy starts, about to suggest that he do the proper thing and engage the other fighter in conversation, the better to gauge if they’re a threat or not. 

“Your injured ass is staying _right here_ ,” Ed says, not because he cares about Roy’s physical wellbeing, but because he doesn’t want Roy to get in his way. Ed, eyes wide and pupils slitted, ears pressed flat against his skull, snarls with malicious glee, “I’m gonna _fuck ‘em up._ ”

“Wait,” Roy says, lunging and catching Ed’s tail. Ed turns the snarl on him and snaps his teeth, nearly catching Roy’s knuckles in his fangs. 

“You volunteerin’ to be my _warm up, Mustang?”_ he hisses.

“Always,” Roy promises, physically incapable of not flirting, “But you can’t go spread them all over the sidewalk, love. I’m a _Colonel_ of the Government. I have to have tact.” He still hasn’t let go of Ed’s tail where it’s bristled in his hand. He pets it a little. 

Ed looks betrayed. “Tact? Okay. Fine. No, this is fine. I can do _tact._ ”

He shoves his head out the door, caught from going any further, and hollers, “SOMEONE LOOKING FOR AN ASS KICKING?”

“Fucking hell,” Roy curses under his breath. He’s not even dressed, and he shrugs on his house coat and shoves his feet into his slippers as he crows behind Ed to try and get a look at their potential victims. 

“INFORM ME OF YOUR CONSENT!” Ed screams. He twists when Roy lets go of his tail for a moment, sees him dressed. “You, go sit _down._ I’ll be back in twenty, tops.”

Roy hooks his chin over Ed’s shoulder and settles his hands on his hips, still scanning his eyes. “They must be pretty far not to have heard you.” He ignores Ed. “How big do you think our radius is?” 

“Not as far as I can yell,” Ed says with a shrug that doubles as stretching his shoulders, like he hadn’t screamed loud enough to be heard three blocks over.

There’s a rush, the wind pulled from his lungs, and the world goes inverted, colors distorted as the fighter accepts Ed’s eloquent call to duel and initiates the shielding. “Apparently your lungs are stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Roy kisses the side of Ed’s neck and nudges him out the door. “We’re on civilian property. The shielding is well and good when it comes to damage, but I don’t want civilians _watching._ ”

Ed laughs at him. “That’s stupid. Why wouldn’t you want them to see us? We’re fucking magnificent. We’re _Faithless.”_

Roy can just see two figures approaching from down the street. He tugs on Ed’s hair to get him to turn his head and kisses him with intent, tongue and teeth. He bites Ed’s lip and pulls, sucking on it a bit before letting go so that it goes plump and red. 

It’s a cheat, or a tactic; a way to bond with a partner you’re unfamiliar with. They’re familiar, though, so the cheat is more…flavor text. Extra credit. A bonus, or a boost. Ed looks gobsmacked, because he doesn’t work spells the same way Roy does, and Roy grins. “Yes, you are magnificent, aren’t you?” 

“How’m I s’posed to _focus,_ ” Ed complains, and shrugs him off, steps out of his arms. “Fucking ho. Weren’t you gonna sit out? I can take ‘em. I’m ITCHY. I’m BORED. Lemme TAKE ‘em.”

“Fighting alone is obscene,” Roy answers primly, “And a sacrifice fighting is out of the question.” Ed’s the only known sacrifice who can perform alchemy or spellcasting in Amestrian history. It’s more than a little cause for alarm. 

“You fucking disgust me,” Ed says, without any heat. “Fucking whatever. Don’t rip your scar, bitch.”

“I won’t have to worry about that with you here to be my sacrifice,” Roy answers warmly. His first battle without damage-- he’s more than a little excited, himself.

Ed rolls his eyes, like he has serious issues with that _purely factual_ statement. “Try not to take a big step, I know those make you cry.”

The other pair are within sight now. He knows that he has at least one hidden guard across the street, and Riza’s been trading off patrol with Havoc. He’s gotten a little sloppy on who’s where at the moment, but he trusts them both should this situation go south. 

Barring an entire army and multiple alchemists, Roy and Ed aren’t going to have an issue. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Roy says when he finally gets a look at their faces. Ed glances at him. 

“Honey!” Maple says. “You got yourself a _sacrifice!”_

“You know her?” Ed hisses under his breath. His tail’s swishing in agitation.

Roy sighs deeply, and whispers back. “I know both of them. Intimately.” 

He raises his voice, says, pleasantly, “Andrew. Maple. Good to see you.”

“ _Is_ it?” Andrew asks, because he’s always been petty like that. “Who’s your boy, Roy. You haven’t mentioned him.” Ed turns his eyes from where they rest on Roy then, and it’s really only a matter of seconds before the gold eyes, gold hair, and visible automail leg click together.

“This is a personal call,” Roy tries, palms open plaintively, “do we have to make a spectacle of ourselves?” 

“Roy,” Ed says, “Let go of me. Now.”

Roy, startles at the command in his voice and trained to obey his Sacrifice, does, takes a full step back into the hallway. 

“Good,” Ed says, then drops to his knees and--claps— 

Roy yelps as the floor reshapes itself under him, tripping him into a...chair? Ed frowns at it critically, strips off his sweater, and then claps again. The chair is suddenly cushioned. Ed is bare chested, in booty shorts that say _h2hoe_ in rhinestones on the ass.

“You’re joking,” Andrew says, and Maple cackles and waves frantically to get Ed’s attention.

“Hey! H2Hoe! I’m in _love_ with you!” She hollers at him. 

“He’s healing, you shitty little twink,” Ed snaps at Andrew as he turns around. He pauses a second, then winks at Maple. “You’re not bad either. You make Roy _very_ uncomfortable.”

“Kill me,” Roy says to Andrew, who’s trying not to physically react to being called a twink. Ed wasn’t _wrong_ , but it’s a real pot calling the kettle black situation. “Either call off the fight or kill me, _please._ ” 

“Maple really wants to fuck with your Sacrifice,” Andrew admits, and Maple cackles again and makes a kissy face. 

“She accepted my _asskicking,_ Roy,” Ed says. “You’re gonna deny the sacred call of challenge? I thought you were about _propriety._ Why, ignoring it now, that’d be obscene—”

Ed’s not _wrong,_ the little twerp, and Roy can already see where spectators have gathered, avid fans of commercial spell battles spreading the word as soon as they initiated a shield. God, that’s Patty Merlin from the Central Times. She has a _camera._

“--so unless you’re gonna let me fight it myself, I really think we gotta take this. I used tactful consent and ev’r’thin’.” Ed finishes smugly.

“You,” Roy says softly, so as not to be overheard by the press, “are the worst little gremlin I have ever had the misfortune of putting my mouth on.” 

“Did you hear that,” Ed calls, eyes wide and arms wide too, as if celebrating. “Y’all, bitch said YES!”

***

It goes about as well as Roy anticipated. He and Ed are _magnificent_ together. They’re unstoppable. Five minutes in and Maple’s on her knees and gagged, luminescent bindings to prevent her from navigating to her Fighter. She’s bleeding a little, because even though this is a battle it’s not a real fight and they’re sort of his friends. He’s not going to use flames on her. 

It could have been even shorter, but Ed kept ignoring him or physically clapping a hand over his mouth so he could banter with Maple more. He took the damage from Andrew with barely a wince, even though Roy _knows_ that Andrew specializes in stings that burn through the nerves like _fire._ Perfect for friendly dueling, since the pain is mostly psychological, and not injurious. Perfect for _winning_ duels, because most people don’t have half enough pain tolerance to take more than three hits.

“Hit him! Hit him with your WORDS!” Ed shouts vaguely, and Roy rolls his eyes and presses his palm against his bandage so that he can feel the way it pulses hotly. He knows if he were to remove it everyone would see _Faithless_ glowing brightly, the way it should only be during active spell use. 

“ _Deflect,”_ Andrew says, but it’s before Roy’s even spoken, too eager to react fast enough, and does nothing. “ _Sharp, wrists, bound,”_ he shoots out next, and that’s faster than Roy can deflect and a luminescent shackle snaps across his automail wrist, chains growing out the side like a tail to anchor to the sidewalk. Ed deflects the other one with a reflexive “ _shatter!”_ that is absolutely cheating when battling commercially but has never actually been addressed since _Ed’s the only Sacrifice that can use spells._

“SORRY!” Ed yells, looking extremely embarrassed, and claps his hands together, makes a chain on his other wrist out of the sidewalk. “REFLEX! I normally don’t just fucking lay down and take it! Sorry! Keep going!” 

Andrew is shocked silent, mouth open but empty. 

“ _ **Defeat** is a relief when you’re but wisps of a forgotten flower, left to wither in an endless night of inattention and ignorance.” _Roy says. Maple squeaks behind her gag as ropes wrap around her, pulling her to her back, completely immobilized. 

“Fucking just say _punch_ , like, _really hard,_ ” Ed mutters. “No one ever listens to me.”

“I yield,” Andrew sighs, and Maple makes an outraged sound and kicks her feet angrily. 

Ed’s making a mutinous expression that matches hers, when the chains covering her face fall away. She sits up and lets Andrew check her over. 

“Maple next time let’s just like, fist fight,” Ed calls. The chain on his one arm disappears, but the other one stays until he claps and replaces it. He stands up, shakes out his arms and hops from one foot to another. 

“How about not,” Roy suggests, standing from his chair. His scar is still pulsing, and he’s uncomfortably aroused. There are too many people looking at him right now, and Havoc’s pulled up in his car to block the reporters from his front lawn. 

“I’ve never been fucking _edged via combat_ before,” Ed whines, but at a low volume, one only Roy and his— yes, his 80 year old neighbor — can hear. “That’s the most unsatisfying fucking fight I’ve had in _years._ I didn’t do shit.”

“ _Ed,_ ” Roy says, strangled, and Havoc’s opening his car door to Maple-- taking her to the medic, probably, which means they won’t actually have a social visit for at least an hour-- “ _please._ ”

“You could fix that,” Ed says contemplatively. “I mean. The edging bit. We got time before they—”

“Subtlety,” Roy hisses, and grabs Ed by his wrist to haul him back into the house. 

Ed twitches his tail meaningfully, grins, feral, and says, “Roy. Who’d fucking believe I’m serious? Look at me.” He takes a deep breath.

“I _am_ you wretch, that’s the _problem._ I can’t stop looking at you.” 

“I’m a modern, sexually empowered virgin,” Ed laughs. “Just like Scholastic Virgins and Society said, I can access my sexuality in a self _empowering_ way, entirely separate from the vicarious demands of a sex obsessed soci—” 

Roy slams the door shut, pulls the front curtain closed, and shoves his tongue in Ed’s mouth while he’s still talking. He shoves his knees between his thighs while he’s at it, beyond satisfied to find that Ed’s hard in his terrible little booty shorts. He can’t really blame Ed when they were challenged at their home, in their loungewear. It’s not his fault he dresses like he’s begging for a fuck. 

He is still a _little_ horrified, and concerned at how _long_ he’s been hard in his terrible little booty shorts, because there were photographers. 

It’s hard to hang onto anything but sheer lust, though, when Ed’s moaning against him, tail clutched in one fist and an ear in another, saying, “Fuck yeah, _fuck me, fuck me,_ c’mon, hurry the hell up, let’s _go._ ”

“Yes, Sacrifice,” Roy says, and tips Ed over his shoulder to carry him up the stairs to the bedroom. About three steps in he feels himself doing all of the damage that Ed so thoughtfully mitigated for him during the spell battle. 

“I hated that,” Ed complains, but he’s not talking about the carry, because his tail is calm between his legs, curled at the end. “Was so _boring_.”

“What,” Roy wheezes, and Ed’s gonna take that and run with it so Roy bites his thigh to distract him from the way he’s not-sexily huffing like an 80 year old smoker. “The battle, or me?” 

“The battle, it’s so fucking _passive_ playing at Sacrifice _._ Just sit there and let someone hurt you and hope that your Fighter does something fuckin’ useful. Our whole goal was to shut up the only interesting bit, which was Maple yelling at me,” Ed sighs. “Hey, should you be walking on—”

Well, time to toss him onto the bed. Ed bounces with a yelp of excitement and lands on his back, immediately spreading his thighs and tonguing at his upper lip seductively. “That’s more like it, c’mon,” he taunts. “You a _big, strong_ Fighter? Gonna show your Sacrifice what you can do?”

“It’s a wonder that anyone’s capable of gagging you in a battle,” Roy says, letting his housecoat drop from his shoulders and stepping easily out of his sweats. 

Ed laughs. “I’ve only been gagged in bed. Cuz I don’t fight like a rules obsessed moron.” He pops the button to his shorts, then the zipper. “Fuck?”

“That’s an order I can get behind,” Roy says, and then demonstrates by grabbing Ed by his thighs and flipping him onto his stomach. His tail is curling and weaving, a sign of Ed’s pleasure, and Roy catches it in a single stroke. 

“ _Hah—_ ” Ed gasps, and arches his back, wiggles his ass enticingly. The shorts are tight enough that even undone they won’t slide off entirely until he pulls. “Then get behind it already.”

Roy does, clambering over the back of Ed’s thighs and ripping his shorts at the seam with a grim satisfaction. 

“You fuck—” Ed gasps, and smushes his face into the mattress, tilts his hips higher. “These are _custom made_ from your shower curtains—” 

“ _Thank_ you, Ed,” he breathes into Ed’s ear, tossing aside the fabric and groping gratuitously at Ed’s asscheeks. “Destroying those was a real pleasure.”

“Destroy my _ass_ , Mustang,” Ed says. 

He decides to skip the witty banter and go straight to obliging, scooting down to get his mouth on Ed’s ass. He takes a detour at the base of his tail, licking a circle around it and biting down right where it connects to his tailbone.

“Need lubricant,” Roy mutters against damp fur, and when Ed doesn’t do anything more than sigh happily he pinches him. “You’re closest.” 

“Yeah, I’m also hottest,” Ed says. He bounces his ass, once, twice, and… the jiggle… is hard to argue with. Roy thinks he can make a convincing argument though.

Roy sticks his tongue in Ed’s ass. 

“FUCK!” Ed swears, and does a shimmy that’s positively _indecent, obscene,_ all the words Roy was trying to apply to something as uncouth as breaking battling norms. “God, yeah, fucking, tongue, oh _damn,_ Roy, _Roy.”_

Ed’s thighs spread wider and his tail thrashes against Roy’s face and Roy kisses deeper, pointing his tongue and darting it in and out rapidly, hands clutching Ed’s thighs to keep him from crushing his head like a watermelon. 

“Best lube,” Ed says deliriously. “Very slick, warming component, improves sens- _ah-_ ation by ten-FUCK-fold.”

Roy spits on Ed’s balls and lets it just. Sit there. 

“Bad noise. Nine out of ten thumbs up my ass,” Ed moans.

“I can do that,” Roy says senselessly. He opens Ed a little more with his thumb and slips his index of his other hand in. This means that Ed has to have the self control _not_ to burst his skull, but also he gets to feel Ed hot and pulsing around his finger and _yes._ He’s maybe humping the sheets a little. 

“Oh fuck, _fuck,_ don’t actually double fist me that only _sounds_ sexy and then you’re like,” Ed gasps. “This was a mistake, this isn’t what Winry’s rubber molds are for, and you’re out 50 dollars in silicone—” 

“You’re joking,” Roy begs, running the pad of his finger along the smooth skin of Ed’s asshole, searching for a particular reaction he has yet to receive. 

“Fuck me and find out,” Ed challenges. Roy moves his finger about some more, and then— 

Ed lurches off his hand and headfirst into the wall. Roy shoots up in alarm, crawling over him to lay his hand flat on the top of his head like he can postemptively cushion the impact. Ed’s ears are twitching madly. 

“Ow,” he moans. “Warn a, warn a fucking guy. _You_ get the lube, you _monster._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Roy laughs, and kisses both his ears and his temple. “But you had to know I wasn’t digging for gold down there.” He gets the lube from the bedside table. 

Ed grins, slow and sweet and syrupy, he stretches his arms above his head. “Got you closer than me to the lube, didn’t I?”

“Bullshit,” Roy challenges, popping the cap with his thumb. He tips some out onto Ed’s chest and rubs it against his nipples. “That was pure, unadulterated horniness.” 

“The fuck,” Ed says, laughing and wiggling away. “Fucking, mercy, uncle, daddy, what _ever—”_

“NO,” Roy says, and pinches both Ed’s nipples in retaliation. “Absolutely NO daddy talk, bad kitty.” 

“HOW IS THAT A NEGATIVE CONDITIONING RESPONSE!” Ed yells, squirming underneath him. 

“Who said anything about conditioning? I just wanted to touch you,” Roy answers, and then flips Ed exactly the same way as before. He’s momentarily regretful for ignoring his cock while it was available, curved all pretty and red at Ed’s belly, but he’s on a mission. 

“You’re right,” Ed says breathlessly. “Absurd of me, as someone who has seen your shower, to think you know what the word _conditioning_ means.”

Roy pours the lube directly onto Ed’s ass and watches him flinch and twitch. “Why is that offensive?” He asks, spreading it with two fingers between his cheeks. 

“It’s like you don’t even care how I get my hair this goddamn luscious,” Ed whines. “You just walk around with a fucking, haystack, and you beat it with a comb and some goddamn _gel_ , and you act like that’s—” 

Roy grabs Ed by the hair and pulls, a recent blowjob related discovery that’s come in handy -- ha-- when he wants to shut him up. “Oh, trust me darling, I _care_ about your hair.” He tugs for emphasis. 

“Hhhhhhot,” Ed finishes numbly. 

“Glad to be of service,” Roy says, and lets go so that he can shove two fingers inside of him and aim directly at the spot he’d just discovered. 

“Fuck,” Ed, but it’s not an exclamation, it’s a demand and a narration rolled into one as he bucks back into Roy’s hand. He’s clutching at the sheets, and his tail is pressed flat up along his spine, the tip curled into a question mark.

He starts a steady rhythm with his fingers, grinding himself against the sheets in time with the thrusting of his hand. 

“Roy,” Ed gasps, “Roy, I’m _ready,_ c’mon, I’m ready, I’m re—” he turns his face into the mattress, screams. “IN ME.”

“Fuck,” Roy agrees, and he’d planned to finger fuck Ed till he screamed but there’s no way he can ignore a direct order like that. He pulls his fingers out and strokes himself two, three times, the head of his dick pressing against Ed’s ass. 

“IN, IN, IN,” Ed is chanting incessantly, and when Roy doesn’t move fast enough for his liking, starts pressing back himself. Roy bows over him and slides in, all the way, slick and slow and maddening. 

Ed works back on him and then off, and he’s— this position isn’t exactly meant to go like this, but Ed’s determined and apparently has the core muscles of a snake. “What part of _fuck,”_ he hisses.

Roy snaps his hips, hard, and when Ed cries into the mattress he does it again, abs and thighs working, sweat already building. Ed’s shoving back just as hard, and they meet each other with a wet slap and simultaneous moans. Roy hops there aren’t reporters casing his house. He’s pretty sure a few more thrusts and he’s going to come, loudly. 

Ed’s ass fits perfectly between his hands, except for the part where he actually can’t hold all of it and it keeps jolting into his wrists. He doesn’t care. Maybe he slaps Ed a little too hard in the effort to get a good grip on him, but neither of them seem to care about that either. The spots where his fingers were and where they are turn white, then red, a map of where he’s been on the golden skin.

“Ed,” Roy says brokenly, mouthing at his shoulder. “Ed, fuck, _Edward,_ you’re, you’re _perfect,_ ” he gasps, each work punctuated with a thrust. 

_“Fuck,_ ” Ed purrs contentedly, and then he—rumbles? But that doesn’t, that’s just a _metaphor,_ no one can literally purr anymore, it was bred out of the population hundreds of _years ago—_

Ed’s ass is _vibrating_ around him, and he says, “Roy,” and comes.

There’s no way Roy can outlast that, and he says “HNNGG” and comes too, pumping into Ed who’s yowling and thrusting right back, hands scrabbling until Roy hears tearing and _doesn’t care._

They writhe together like that for longer than he expects, until they’re both shuddering and slipping on sweat and skin and sheets. 

“I love you,” Roy says stupidly, faceplanted in the sweat that had collected in the middle of Ed’s back.

The purr stops, immediately, but Ed doesn’t shove him off. Maybe— he must have been imagining that purr. It’s impossible, even for someone who does the impossible as often as Ed. It went from vestigial to _gone_ right before Roy’s generation. 

“Yeah, I’m a great fuck, I get it,” Ed says jokingly. He sounds slightly proud, and is completely missing the point.

“Can it,” Roy grumbles, and smacks at Ed’s ass lazily. “I’ve stroked enough of you for one day, your ego is going to have to wait.” 

“Nah,” Ed says, and shakes his ass a little bit, tail flicking with it. Roy yelps as he’s splashed with _fluids._ “I made the playboy of Central and East jizz so hard that he said he loves me. I’m owning this shit.”

“That’s a correlation,” Roy argues, “not causation, you wretch,” and he grabs Ed by the ribs and squeezes, blowing wetly against the side of his neck. 

“Fucker,” Ed says, and elbows at him weakly. “‘s fine, too proud to admit you got some of this and you never want anythin’ else, it’s only natural.” 

“I _don’t_ want anything else,” Roy says honestly, and he grabs a pillow in preparation to smother Ed with it. He’s growing wise to Ed’s allergy of genuine affection, but Roy can’t help himself. “I just want you, always.” 

“You mean you don’t wanna bottom next time?” Ed asks, pouting, eyes twinkling. There’s something tense in his shoulders though. Why does he _believe_ this? What did Roy ever do to give him this—jaded idea of him?

Roy smothers Ed with the pillow if only to get him outraged instead of heartbroken. Not the best method, but Roy’s working with what he has. 

Ed claps, and Roy’s eyes widen in instinctive fear, and the room devolves into feathery chaos.

“YOU’RE A BLIGHT,” Roy shouts, grappling against tacky skin and itchy feathers to drag Ed back over to him where he’s trying to escape. 

“YOU’RE A BUTT,” Ed shouts back.

In the silence of harsh breathing and rushing blood, right before Roy reaches out and _strangles him—_

The doorbell rings.

“Maple!” Ed says, delighted. He snatches the burst pillowcase, clapping as he darts out into the hall. “You hate these curtains, right?”

Roy groans. 

**Author's Note:**

> find ang3lba3 on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cryingiscooltm)


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